


Songs for the Weary

by Tainted_Grace



Series: Succubus Stiles and Alpha Derek [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Complete, Derek is a Failwolf, Emotionally Constipated Derek Hale, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Mating Bites, Monster of the Week, Stiles Stilinski Attracts Supernatural Creatures, Succubus Stiles Stilinski, Vampires, Werewolves, accidental claim, gryphons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-06-06 15:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15197966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tainted_Grace/pseuds/Tainted_Grace
Summary: Stiles is dying – like holding his intestines in his abdomen level dying. So resident brooding Alpha Derek Hale asks him if he wants the Bite, because he refuses to do this unless it is Stiles’ choice. Stiles says yes and Derek saves his life. But all choices have consequences, all actions have a reaction.There will be a companion book to follow with an explicit chapter set in this universe.





	1. Harry Potter Got It All Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I have been sitting on this one for awhile. I decided to dust it off and start publishing it if only to get the ball rolling and give me motivation to actually finish it after all this time.
> 
> *Hides all my unfinished WIP's that are silently judging me from a distant file*
> 
> Heh, well, we shall see. Hope you guys like it.
> 
> P.S. I apologize. This chapter is a pretty heavy hitter and I kind of put Stiles through hell... I do love the kid, I promise.

Stiles hears the roar a half second too late. The moment he spins to run there is a paw – yes a literal lion’s paw – slamming down against his abdomen. The feeling of being eviscerated courses through him as the razor sharp claws attached to it rip into his flesh like he is made of papier-mâché. All sound dampens into a steady thumping bass that matches the wet beating of his heart in his ears. He knows that there is blood pouring from his lips and down his neck, he can feel it, but there is nothing he can do to stop himself when he feels his body falling. Judging from the way he falls straight down to his knees and then collapses to the side he probably does some serious damage to at least one of his patellae. He tries to hold back the sick wave of terror that threatens to wash over him and send him into a panic.

“Stiles!” Scott is at his side almost instantly, hands fluttering over the mottled mess of flesh and blood, tears slipping down from his bright red eyes.

“Scott.” Stiles chokes out, blood spluttering out along with the single syllable and he can feel his consciousness slipping away without his consent.

A roar rips through the air and Stiles would know that sound anywhere. It probably isn’t a good thing that his heart pumps even faster in positive anticipation at the protective howl of a predatory werewolf, but its Derek’s howl and Derek will never hurt Stiles, at least not for real. The sound of whimpering draws Stiles’ fluttering gaze and he glances over just in time to see the werewolf in question rip out the gryphon’s throat. _With his teeth._ Stiles always thought that Derek was exaggerating when he threatened to do that…

Stiles groans and rests his head back on Scott’s forearm, the adrenaline rush wearing off and making him gasp as the pain registers in a sudden tidal wave of sensation, despite the thick black lines licking at Scott’s veins as he tries to syphon some of his best friend’s pain. He can’t hold back the scream that bubbles up in his chest, his throat growing raw almost instantly. The moonlight disappears and suddenly Stiles is surrounded by almost the entire pack. Isaac rests his palm flat on Stiles’ forearm and hovers over Scott’s shoulder with this worried look in his wide blue eyes that makes Stiles feel like making the joke he’s thinking of is a bad idea. Boyd and Erica are kneeling at his feet, both covered in blood splatter and a few minor cuts and bruises but otherwise fine apart from the uncharacteristic concern in their eyes. He lifts his head a little bit and sees their hands gripping either of his ankles. Derek is to Stiles’ left, kneeling on the opposite side of him as Scott, his entire massive hand holding up Stiles’ head by the back of his neck. This close to his face Stiles can see just how thick and dark the veins in Derek’s arm have become as well as the way he grits his teeth against the phantom agony. Allison and Lydia are by his head, both looking broken and terrified as well as utterly helpless.

“You’re not allowed to die today, Stiles. I didn’t get any warning!” The banshee reasons with tears in her eyes and Stiles manages to crack a small amused smile at her despite clearly seeing that she is about half a second from breaking into hysterical sobs.

“I’m almost literally holding my heart in my hands, Lyds, I don’t think I have the luxury of choice at the moment.” Stiles responds and Derek growls, adjusting his grip and pulling Stiles’ jaw until he looks up at the scowl etched into his face and the furrow of his brows is really something impressive, which for Derek, is saying a lot; his eyebrows are _always_ impressive but this is one step beyond that.

“All you have to do is say yes.” Derek tells him, eyes going red and fangs dropping down in place like he is itching to bite. “Please say yes.”

“But-” Stiles doesn’t need to ask for clarification, or even what he is saying yes to; he already knows by the terror on Derek’s face that he is being genuine, the question not needing to be asked aloud when it is so clearly written on Derek’s face for the world to see.

“Stiles, dude, you’re dying. Just say yes.” Scott sobs and Stiles glances around the circle, eyes making contact with each of his packmates, before his eyes focus back in on Derek’s glowing red ones.

“I’m not ready to die.” He says resolutely, his jaw clenching and Derek can feel the strength of the 18 year old’s resolve like a physical anchor keeping him alive.

“Say it, Stilinski.” Derek orders in his most growl-y tone and Stiles really _should_ be more scared but he can’t help but feel amazed by the worry in that tone buried deep beneath all of the anger and _grr_.

“Yes.” Stiles coughs, trying not to think about the really unattractive amount of blood that he just coughed up and that is currently staining his entire throat crimson.

Derek doesn’t wait for the teen to change his mind, he just bites into the hollow of Stiles’ left collarbone. The wolf in him rears at the placement of the bite but he closes his eyes tightly against the sensation and locks his jaw so that he doesn’t back off too soon. The coppery tang of blood fills his senses and he can’t help but feel bad for causing the kid even more pain that he is already in, even if doing so will hopefully save his life. He finally does pull back a couple of moments later when he hears the stutter of Stiles’ heart coming to a stop. There is a solid thirty seconds of silence as every single person present stares at the uncharacteristically still body slumped between the two Alphas and terror begins to set in. A dam breaks and everyone sighs out their relief when the weak thump of a heart beating echoes in Stiles’ chest cavity again, signaling that they were not too late after all.

“I’ve got him. I’ll take him to the Clinic in the morning.” Derek still sounds gruff and bossy so the Betas don’t argue but Scott hesitates from his place under Stiles. “Take care of them, Scott. There’s still another Gryphon out there, and now she is going to want blood.”

Scott nods, all business at the reminder, and rises from his place as Derek carefully pulls Stiles into his arms bridal style and stands to leave, still careful not to jostle the kid too much because most of his organs are still trying to escape from his torso since the healing process hasn’t kicked in just yet. Derek rests Stiles in the backseat of his Camaro, not even batting an eyelash at the thought of blood getting on his pristine leather seats.


	2. Derek is a Failwolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek may have accidentally done a thing when he saved Stiles life...
> 
> Reason #4386 why Derek Hale is the reigning Failwolf of Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Stiles... His life is about to go kind of crazy. But he's alive and that's all that he really cares about right now.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I just finished it like five mins ago and breezed through it so I may have missed some typos. Sorry if I did.
> 
> P.S. I have decided to lower the rating on this to PG and make it just the plot. It’s gonna be 10 chapters and an epilogue followed by a companion one shot that takes place 6 months after Stiles is bitten and is pure smut. 
> 
> I figured I would try this for the people who wanted the slow burn but not the explicit smut. Lemme know if you this it’s a good idea or not. I’ve never broken up a story like this before and I’d genuinely like your feedback on which way you’d prefer, all in one or as a two part mini-series.

Derek drives back to his loft and carries Stiles inside, resting him on the plain black comforter covering his bed and going to get a bowl of hot water and a wash cloth, as well as a first aid kit and some towels. It takes him almost two hours to clean away all the caked on dirt and dried blood and then another 45 minutes to rearrange the shredded skin of his abdomen into some semblance of normal so that it can heal even faster.

Once he is convinced that Stiles is as comfortable as he is going to get while still so badly injured Derek goes to take a shower and wash off the blood and gore ruining yet another outfit. He stands for a good five minutes with one hand braced against the wall and the other hanging at his side, twitching just slightly, water flowing down his hunched shoulders and dripping off his lax fingertips, his head bent forward in defeat as hot tears slide down his face to join the water going down the drain. He was almost too late, he almost lost the most important thing in his life, and all because of a shapeshifting Greek lion that decided the locals looked tasty. Derek finally pulls himself together and washes up when he registers the sound of Stiles’ heart getting stronger and steadier as his breaths deepen and even out into a more healthy rhythm, still hitching on every intake because of the searing pain he must still be in.

When Stiles wakes up 13 hours later Derek is passed out on the floor by the side of the bed with his head resting on his forearms, the fingers of one hand just falling short of pressing against Stiles’ thigh. Stiles has the sudden urge to run his fingers through the silky black hair and his fingers twitch with the effort of holding back because of just how close the dark strands are to his hand. He holds back for all of a minute and a half before he lets just the tips of his fingers tangle in the edges of Derek’s hair.

Of course that little shift is enough to wake up the werewolf and make him look up at Stiles with those wide, knowing eyes that Stiles avoids at all costs. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

 _God_ , Derek’s morning voice is like concentrated _sex_ , Stiles would swear to it. “Like death.” He admits, trying not to focus on the pulsing and throbbing that seems to settle into every single nerve in his body and makes him feel like he just ran five marathons. “How am I even alive?”

“I got to you in time.” Derek tells him, eyes zeroing in on the bright red crescent-shaped scabs adorning Stiles’ collarbone. He can feel his stomach clench at the sight and his fingertips itch as he holds back his claws.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks, looking innocent and adorable, per usual, eyes just as wide and curious as they always are.

The sight of Stiles tilting his head innocently to the right and opening up that marked skin is enough to drive Derek wild and he bites down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood so that he doesn’t do something stupid. “I gave you the Bite. I was afraid it wasn’t going to take in time.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, thanks again for that.” Stiles rubs his neck awkwardly, his forearm covering the bite mark and giving Derek the strength to look up at his eyes instead of at the claim that is inevitably going to scar within the next 10 hours, probably less.

“No problem.” Derek sounds nonchalant but he feels anything but. Not saving the mouthy teenager was not even in the realm of possibilities if Derek is being honest. He doesn’t know what he would have done had Stiles said no to the Bite and he is eternally glad that now he will never have to find out.

“So am I a werewolf now?” Stiles asks conversationally and Derek can’t help but smirk. Of course that would be one of his first questions.

“Don’t know yet. Ask me again later tonight.”

“Okay. Wait, what did you guys tell my dad?!” Stiles sounds like he is about to have a panic attack and Derek instantly sits up on his knees beside the bed so that he is looking down at Stiles.

“I think Scott took care of that. I need to change your bandages again, if it’s not going to hurt too much.”

Stiles calms down almost instantly now that he knows that his dad is not going to worry about him. “Yeah, sure. Even if it does hurt it still needs done, right?” He sighs, trying to pull himself into a more comfortable position against the pillows.

“Right. I’ll try to be careful though.” Derek saying that he is going to be careful is enough to make Stiles want to snort out a laugh but he holds it in and just lays there waiting for Derek to return with his little mountain of medical supplies.

It only takes about an 20 minutes to get Stiles all patched back up and the entire time the two make small talk to fill the silence because if there is one thing Derek knows about Stiles it’s that the kid can not physically stop himself from talking for longer than about three minutes, and that’s being generous. The wounds are already looking a hundred times better, the skin weaving itself back into place and taking on an angry reddish-pinkish hue. Derek takes that as a good sign, a hopeful sign, and tells Stiles as much when the teen asks what Derek thinks. As soon as Derek finds a shirt that will fit Stiles relatively well – though the thing still slips off his shoulder every few minutes, teasing the Alpha with tantalizing little flashes of the scabs on Stiles’ shoulder – the pair get back into the Camaro and Stiles will never admit that he doesn’t put up much of a protest when Derek all but carries him all the way down to the car and even buckles him in and then they head for the Clinic where a very wise veterinarian is probably already expecting them.

Deaton basically tells Stiles exactly what Derek had: there is no way to know what he is until nearly 24 hours after he was bitten but based on the healing rate of his wounds he should be fine regardless. The only thing Stiles really cares about is the fact that he is still alive so he doesn’t really pay attention to much else that Deaton says after that, which is probably a mistake now that he thinks about it. After Deaton gives him the all clear Derek takes him out to breakfast. Stiles tries to remind himself that the Alpha is only taking him to get food because he needs to eat something. He tries to convince himself that he doesn’t wish this was actually a date. He fails pretty miserably, not that he will ever tell that to anyone, _especially_ Derek.

The pack comes over around 3, with the exception of Scott because he has work, which basically means Deaton has him running laps around the town’s perimeter looking for signs of any vengeful supernatural beings. Stiles appreciates the stack of comic books that Isaac hands him but his appreciation for the boy’s taste in reading material is quickly overshadowed by his adoration for caffeine. He nearly has a heart attack when Lydia hands him the extra-extra-large cup of coffee with a crooked smile on her lips that makes Stiles beam back up at her happily and remember why he has loved her since he was a little kid. The teens all spend the evening sat on or near Derek’s bed, circled around Stiles’ reclined form and keeping him occupied so that he doesn’t think about the time. The closer the clock gets to 11:00pm the more antsy the group becomes until finally Stiles can’t stand it anymore.

He pushes Isaac until he stands from the bed and opens up a space for Stiles to slide out and make a beeline for the bathroom. He stares into the mirror with wide eyes that he can only compare to a deer. Before he can stop himself he pulls off the shirt Derek loaned him and begins to unwrap the bandages from around his torso. By the time he gets done his heart is hammering in his chest and he can hear his friends knocking at the door, clearly concerned for his well-being. Stiles can’t bring himself to let them in and he definitely can’t bring himself to look into the mirror that will be his moment of truth.

“Stiles?” He hears the gruff voice cut through the mess of chatter and he instantly cracks the door open, a single eye searching until he finds Derek and then he pulls the older man inside by his jacket sleeve before shutting the door tight again and turning the lock, just to be sure, despite the chorus of objections from his friends on the other side.

“So?” He asks, wide eyes boring into Derek’s as he asks for the honest truth, knowing that the Alpha will be the most straightforward with him, especially with something this important.

Derek stares at Stiles for a moment before slowly flicking his gaze lower a little bit at a time, checking every cut and every slash that he categorized and wrapped less than 24 hours ago. The marks are still a rosy pink but the color is nothing more than a fading shadow against Stiles’ mole-dotted skin. “They all look mostly healed. You’re going to live.” Derek sounds more relieved than Stiles expected but he lets it go, instead turning to face the mirror and see for himself now that the initial anxiety and dread have dissipated and made way for his ever present curiosity.

Derek turns to leave him to his assessment when that voice stops him dead in his tracks. “Why is the bite mark scarring?”

“I have no idea, Stiles. Ask Deaton next time you see him.” Derek blushes, balling his hand up into a fist, glad that his back is to Stiles so that he cannot see the red spreading across his face like wildfire as he remembers what he accidentally did, what his instincts led him to do in a moment of sheer panic.

In his split second decision of where to put the bite he allowed his wolf to take over, his instincts overriding his logic as he claimed the boy in the most literal sense of the word. The reason that the marks are scarring instead of healing, Derek knows, is that the crescent marks will soon scar and become a pleasure center and binding mark for Stiles. In his haste to save the boy’s life he accidentally, or rather, instinctually, bound him to Derek for the rest of their lives. The mate mark stares at Derek almost accusingly as he glances back at Stiles and then he ducks out of the bathroom in search of somewhere quiet so that he can lose his composure and berate himself for what he did, the members of the pack with enhanced hearing staring after him, all of them knowing what Derek accidentally did and not a single one of them wanting to have to explain it to Stiles because they all know it would be like opening a can of worms; once they breach the subject Stiles will have to know everything there is to know and not a single one of the wolves are even _close_ to being ready for _that_ conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you that Stiles will be consenting to any and all smexy times to come. I may have had Derek failwolf and claim him but Derek regrets not getting express permission for his actions and will hold himself at bay or even walk away (despite what it may do to him in the process) if it means Stiles gets to have a choice. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the little rant. What did you think?
> 
> I promise that I do intend to write smutty stuff for this thing but I actually want to write a bit of plot first (I know, I know. Me? Plot? WHAAAAT???). Besides, sometimes the slow burn makes the actual chapter so much better, mostly because it gives me more time to write it.


	3. Here, Kitty, Kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles was bitten, life goes on, but no one can figure out what manner of supernatural being the kid is. 
> 
> Oh, and the vengeful Gryphon is still around. Go figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I still haven't gotten my laptop fixed. I got an estimate for the cost to fix it and I'm almost definitely just going to buy a new one when I can afford it. It's sad that it would be cheaper that way. Anyway, I pulled this out and decided to polish it up and post it as a bit of stress relief.
> 
> I hope you guys like it.
> 
> I don't have the patience to let someone beta this before I post it so all typos are my own fault, as always. I hope they are few and don't deter from the story. Stiles is still Stiles, supernatural powers or not.

Stiles has been bitten for three weeks, four days, six hours, and seventeen minutes and still not one person can figure out what he is. He definitely isn’t a werewolf because wolf’s bane has no effect on him but he _is_ susceptible to mountain ash so he isn’t a banshee like Lydia and he _definitely_ isn’t human; his healing factor and supernaturally enhanced reflexes rule out that last option pretty quickly. Deaton has thrown around a couple of theories throughout that time but he has also systematically ruled out every single one of them within a few hours. Even Chris Argent is at a loss as to what Stiles could be (and wasn’t he just over the moon to find out that Stiles is now a supernatural being, too).

The Sheriff still has no idea what happened – Scott was going to tell him but he just couldn’t do it; he chickened out on Stiles’ front porch, listening to the man that’s practically been a father to him for years berate the players on the screen for a “truly horrible pass” and just texted him and told him that Stiles was spending the night at his place – and Stiles has no plans to fill him in, at least until he has something concrete to tell him. Since that night there have been three more deaths, all obviously done by some type of animal, and the Pack instantly knows that it is the act of the vengeful gryphon. Just like werewolves, gryphons are highly protective and believe in vendetta like no other supernatural species alive. With every death Stiles throws himself deeper into his research, trying to figure out how to stop the gryphon before anyone else ends up dead but so far he’s come up with zilch.

Derek devotes all of his time to combing the woods and land surrounding Beacon Hills in search of the beast, not willing to admit to himself or anyone else that he is doubly motivated – no one needs to know that he’s avoiding Stiles, too – and if they already know exactly what he is doing then they all have the good sense to keep their mouths shut about it. The rest of the Pack do what they can, when they can. Between school and work they search throughout the entire city and the surrounding woods, coming away with nothing. And then the gryphon comes to them, well, Stiles, to be specific.

Of course she goes after Stiles, and of _course_ it’s when he is at his absolutely _least_ prepared. When he comes out of the grocery store with his arms loaded down with bags upon bags of snacks and goodies for the pack and two gallons of milk dangling precariously from his fingertips he is not expecting to see a 400-pound mythical lion pacing back and forth in front of his Jeep like it belongs there instead of in the pages of a mythology textbook. The bags are quickly dropped to the asphalt, Stiles throwing his hands up in the universal sign for surrender. “Whoa! Hey, can we just talk this out? Please, I mean, I don’t have any beef with you, Mrs. Gryphon-Lady, other than the fact that you killing people makes my dad’s job harder and then his blood pressure and cholesterol go through the roof, but, you know, whatever, I guess. Just, please don’t kill me because your little boyfriend tried that one already and those claws of yours are _really_ a lesson in not fun, so I’ll pass on the sequel.”

In two seconds flat there is a woman with sandy blonde hair standing in front of Stiles, naked, and with a curious, glossy look in her feline-gold eyes. “You want to _talk it out_? What is there to talk about? You and your pack of mangy _dogs_ killed my mate, so now, I’m going to kill _you_.” Wow, okay, humans do _not_ have that many teeth, especially not ones that are that sharp.

“No, no, no, no, no, you don’t wanna do that. Revenge is such a boring thing and you never get anything out of it but more pain. Killing my pack won’t solve anything. And just for the record, your boyfriend attacked us first, lady.” Stiles shakes his head, knowing that he should probably sensor out his sass but not really being able to hold his tongue. “If I were you I would just cut my losses and go find a nice beach somewhere. I mean, it can’t be very satisfying to kill a bunch of witless teenagers, now can it?”

“Your case is oddly compelling but I think I’ll pass, pretty boy. Ripping out your heart still sounds pretty fun, to be honest. And I have a _fantastic_ recipe for liver.” She growls, crouching as if ready to turn, her teeth flashing bright in the afternoon sunlight. Stiles is honestly surprised that no one else has noticed the bare naked lady standing in the parking lot in broad daylight but hey, this is Beacon Hills, and if there’s one thing Stiles has learned after all these years of dealing with the supernatural it’s never to question eerily perfect timing.

“ _Wait_!” Stiles screams, hoping beyond all hope that she will listen to the plea.

Stiles almost has a full-blown heart attack when she complies, freezing mid-crouch as if compelled to, eyes blinking wildly like he physically slapped her.

“Please, you don’t have to do this. You’ve already killed three people. And he killed 4, so I think us killing him is more than fair. He attacked me, so my pack defended me. This is _our_ territory, _our_ land, and you two came in here and started killing people under _our_ protection. Killing me won’t solve anything. All it will accomplish is pissing off the most powerful pack in the West and will end in your death. So if you have to kill me, then kill me, but I don’t think that’s what you really wanna do.” Stiles is out of breath, the words coming out airy and desperate, but also very raw and honest.

The gryphon seems to ponder it for a moment before standing back up and looking at Stiles. “You’re good, kid, I’ll give you that. I’ll leave, but only because you’ve got balls enough to stand up to me despite looking scared shitless. Don’t lose that courage, pretty boy, it may just save your life again someday.” With that the woman sinks down into a crouch, shifting back into a gryphon and running off into the woods while Stiles stands there shocked with milk slowly trickling towards his shoes.

Once he picks up the remnants of his purchases and starts the car he calls Scott. “Yeah?”

“Dude, call a meeting. You are _never_ going to believe what just happened.” Stiles orders, swerving out onto the road and then heading in the direction of Derek’s loft where everyone will probably end up congregating anyway, with or without the summons.

“What’s up?”

“I’ll tell you when you get there. Just call the meeting.”

“Sure. I’ll see you soon, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what'cha think? Did I do okay? I know this is kind of a slow burn but I tried to pace it quick enough to get to the point but slow enough to add the little details I wanted to add.
> 
> I still haven't even STARTED to write the smut add-on but luckily I have about 8 more chapters to get it done.
> 
> Come talk to me in the comments and lemme know what you think. Come talk to me about Teen Wolf or Sterek or anything at all, really.
> 
> I'll see you next time. Hope you have a good week.


	4. If You're Going Through Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little peek into the mind of everyone's favorite Sourwolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to give everyone a peek inside the mind of Derek Hale as it relates to one Stiles Stilinski, and here it is. Its not very long but it's kind of like a train of thought so I ran with it.
> 
> I will probably turn around and post another chapter here in an hour or two if I finish it.
> 
> In the meantime I hope you enjoy this.

Even with the knowledge that Stiles somehow talked a vengeful gryphon out of committing mass murder, no one can figure out what the hell he is. After two months of quiet following the situation with the gryphons Stiles is still no closer to figuring out what he might be. The teen has gotten so desperate and confused that he has considered breaking down and asking Derek if he knows what happened, or worse yet, possibly going so far as to ask if he did something _wrong_ when he bit Stiles, but Derek has been pretty MIA recently.

With Scott realizing his potential as a True Alpha, Derek has allowed himself to make pretty frequent trips to Central and South America to visit Cora more often, though he still doesn’t admit to himself that every time he does it he feels like he’s running. Cora is overjoyed to be able to spend the time with her brother, but she can’t help but feel like even though he is with her in person his mind is still in Beacon Hills, and rightfully so.

Even with Derek promising himself that he will stay away from Stiles and give the kid freedom to live a normal life, or as normal as is possible in Beacon Hills, there are some days where he is so overwhelmed by the man’s sheer presence that he has to get away before he or his wolf do something incredibly stupid. On those days he gets in his car and drives and he doesn’t stop until the pounding in his head and the urge to fuck Stiles’ brains out subsides to a more manageable (excruciating) level. Every time he sees his mark he feels almost sick to his stomach, knowing that he did more than just fail – he fucked up, _bad_. And no apology in the world could make this right.

Derek may not be able to take the claim back, he may not be able to fix this, but he will spend every single day of the rest of his life trying to, even if Stiles doesn’t know what it is that he is paying penance for. The other wolves have been giving him space, all of them knowing _exactly_ what he is putting himself through by being away from Stiles. The self-inflicted distance makes him more surly than usual and he tries to avoid the other wolves so that he doesn’t accidentally snap at one of them.

Derek’s only saving grace, the only light in his darkest of nights, is the knowledge that Stiles is not a wolf so he is not effected as much, or as obviously, as Derek. Sure, Stiles will miss the Sourwolf from time to time but he doesn’t ache to be around him, his chest doesn’t feel like it’s breaking apart whenever he walks away from the alluring scent of the soon-to-be 19 year old’s unique blend of cologne, body wash and shampoo. Stiles is saved the torment of being in constant agony because of Derek’s colossal mistake, and that is the silver lining that the Alpha clings to when he feels lost, but some days even that doesn’t seem like enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Derek is kind of beating himself up about this whole mess... as he would if this were actually in the show, no doubt.
> 
> I honestly wanna skip to the end so that I can give you guys the happy ending but I just can't, there is so much angst left to go.
> 
> Come talk to me down in the comments about anything and everything. Getting to have a conversation with you guys is literally one of my favorite parts of the writing process.
> 
> I'll see you guys next time.


	5. That Ah-Ha Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia is one smart cookie; of course she's the first to figure out what Stiles has become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My girl is a genius! I love Lydia Martin and I had to give her a little bit of appreciation so I did. Like this entire work this is totally self-serving, but I hope you like it just the same.
> 
> Still a bit of a shorter chapter so I doubled up and this is my second update for the day. I hope that somewhat makes up for the brevity of the two chapters, this is still mostly just set up.

Lydia is the first to figure out what Stiles is, and it’s almost purely by accident, or at least right place, right time, as well as an acutely developed sense of irony. Allison is telling her about a debate she had with Stiles a few weeks ago about some stupid thing or another but what Lydia finds absolutely laughable and totally out of character is when Allison tells her that she had the sudden urge to just kiss the life out of Stiles to make him _finally_ shut the hell up. Because of her friend’s unwavering loyalty to Scott the story sticks with Lydia. A few days later she walks into Derek’s loft for movie night to find Erica staring at Stiles as he drones on about some comic book character and listing all of the reasons that he is better than some other character from the same series. There wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary except Erica reaches a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck, pulls him forward, and kisses him square on the mouth, much to the shock and surprise of those around her who can do nothing but stare with wide eyes and dropped jaws.

Lydia’s eyes widen and she spares a second to be grateful that Derek is spending the weekend in Mexico City with Cora, otherwise she would fear for Erica’s life. A quick glance around the room and she notices Boyd’s absence so she relaxes even further, knowing that Stiles’ life doesn’t currently hang in the balance either.

“You talk way too much, Batman.” She sighs out, voice low and sultry, and then her eyes bug as wide as Stiles’ already are and jerks up as if she’s been electrocuted. “Did I really just do that?”

“Uh…” Stiles says intelligently, sitting stock still, back ramrod straight and his cheeks quickly growing red.

“Oh my god, what am I going to tell Boyd?” She yelps, getting up and rushing off, leaving Stiles looking shell-shocked from his place on the floor in front of Derek’s massive leather sofa.

“Did that really just-?” Lydia asks, coming to sit on the couch beside him and trying not to laugh at the look on his face.

“Where did that come from?” He asks, scrubbing a hand through his hair and sighing. “Boyd is gonna _murder_ me!”

Lydia hums and sits back on the couch, thinking about everything from the last month or so and pausing, the metaphorical lightbulb flickering on in her head. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?” She asks and Stiles nods, handing her his phone without even thinking about it before going back to mentally planning his own funeral.

She pulls up the online Bestiary – thank you Danny – and scrolls through the Table of Contents, so glad that they alphabetized the book by the English translations of the words and not the Latin – not that she doesn’t know both languages, but still. When she gets to the S’s she slows down her thumb, carefully reading through each title until she comes to the one she wants. She clicks on the link and then goes to the full profile, combing through the description and looking for similarities to what is going on with Stiles. She smirks when she finds the answer they’ve all been searching for but she chooses to keep her mouth shut until she can talk to Deaton and make sure that her theory is 100% correct. Lydia is pretty sure that if one more theory turns out to be wrong Stiles is actually going to lose his mind.

+++

The next morning Lydia skips school to go to the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic. When Dr. Alan Deaton comes out of his examination room his eyebrows raise, the most obvious sign of surprise that the man has, and it quickly morphs into a friendly smile. “Hello, Miss Martin. What an unexpected surprise. Is there something in particular that I can do for you this morning?”

“I had a theory about Stiles that I wanted to run by you before I told him about it. Is there somewhere we can talk?” She asks, adjusting the strap on her shoulder with a timid smile.

“Of course. Why don’t we talk in my office?” She follows the veterinarian through the exam room to the little adjoining room, sitting in the chair across from his desk and taking out her MacBook while he takes the one opposite her behind it.

“So I was at the pack movie night last night and I saw Erica kiss Stiles, which wouldn’t be too shocking except for the fact that she is practically attached at the hip to Boyd and thinks of Stiles as one of her closest friends. And the other week Allison said that she had the sudden urge to shut up one of Stiles’ rants by kissing him quiet, even though she is so in love with Scott that it makes me wanna puke sometimes. So I was looking through the bestiary and I found… this.” She turns the laptop around and watches the man’s eyes track back and forth across the screen as he reads.

Comprehension seems to dawn on his face with the more he reads and he nods, looking up at Lydia with a proud glint in his eyes. “I think you may be onto something, Miss Martin.”

“It’s Lydia, Dr. Deaton.”

“Well, Lydia, I think you’re right in your thinking, though maybe slightly off on the terminology. Stiles is a male, so instead of ‘ _succubus’_ the correct title would be ‘ _incubus_.’ Unless, of course, both species have been simplified into the one term in the Bestiary.” He explains, pushing the computer back into Lydia’s direction and interlocking his fingers on the desk in front of him.

She types for a moment before nodding. “Both terms had the same origin so it was simplified down into just succubus because it was the better known name for them and incubus took on a different meaning, something about a demon-child that sucks the life force out of its parents.” She nods, putting the computer to sleep and slipping it back into her backpack as they both stand.

“Ah, so you are correct. You are on the path to becoming a great emissary, Lydia. Before I would tell the rest of the Pack I would take this to your Alpha, or in this case, Alphas, and see what they want to do about it. A creature like this could potentially cause havoc in the ranks of a pack, regardless of the bond holding that pack together. They may want to keep the discovery to themselves for a while.”

“With all due respect, Doctor, Stiles is not a _creature_. He’s still Stiles.”

With that said she lets herself out of the clinic and sighs, climbing into her car and driving to school in time for second period science where she avoids Scott staring at her profile with such intensity that she’s worried about holes being burrowed straight through her face.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we know what Stiles is now!! 
> 
> What do you think of my choice to make him a Succubus? I kind of like the obvious irony in it but I wanna know what you guys think.
> 
> So come talk to me below. I love chatting with you guys, it makes my day. 
> 
> I will see you next time!


	6. Seriously? No, SERIOUSLY!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys even want chapter summaries or is it pointless and spoiler-y for the chapter itself?
> 
> As always, typos are my fault. Lemme know below.

Lydia chooses to heed the Druid’s advice, texting Derek and Scott to meet her at the loft that night when she knows that everyone else is busy with various different projects and such. When they all three get there she can see the confusion sketched into the men’s faces. “What is it, Lydia?” Scott asks, crossing his arms over his chest at the crisscrossed chemo-signals assaulting the wolves’ senses.

“I figured it out, and Deaton told me to tell you first.”

“Figured what out?” Derek asks, voice gruff.

“What Stiles is.” At the sound of the teen’s name there is an immediate shift in Derek’s posture that Lydia would have to be blind to miss. She smirks but chooses to not comment on the change in demeanor for the time being.

“Go on.” He demands and Lydia clears her throat before she begins to talk, making sure to choose her words extremely carefully.

“Over the past couple of weeks I have noticed certain things that started to paint a vivid picture. When I put all of the pieces together I went to Deaton and he confirmed what I was already thinking.”

“Come on, Lydia, just spit it out.” Scott sighs, curious to know what his best friend has become.

“Deaton and I believe that Stiles is a-” She takes a deep breath and sighs it out, shaking her head before looking into Scott’s eyes. “We think that he is a succubus.”

“You must be joking.” Scott scoffs and shakes his head, finding the entire notion utterly ridiculous. “ _Stiles_? Is a _sex_ _demon_!? You’re kidding right?”

“It’s not as simple as that, Scott. Succubae feed on desire. If Stiles doesn’t realize this soon he could accidentally starve himself or end up lashing out and _devouring_ someone. Regular food is no longer enough for him, it’s merely a stop-gap.” Lydia explains, glaring at Scott until he stops laughing and notices how serious she is.

“So, what? Stiles needs to get laid?” The True Alpha asks awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the concrete floor.

“Desire doesn’t have to be _sexual_ , moron. Whatever you are passionate about, be it protecting the pack or Allison or whatever, he can tap into that energy. I would offer to help him myself but until he learns to control it one of the quick-healing pack members should take up the task.” She gives Scott and pointed look and then turns to Derek, wondering why he has been so quiet throughout the entire thing. “Oh, and you might want to talk to each other and decide _if_ and _when_ you plan on telling the pack. Preferably _before_ Boyd kills Stiles for kissing Erica.”

The words finally draw a reaction from Derek, his head snapping up as he looks at Lydia in disbelief. “He did _what_?”

“Well, she kissed him to be more accurate. Oh, and another little bonus of being a ‘sex demon’, as Scott so eloquently put it? Stiles is no longer going to be as clumsy or as vulnerable. He is practically immortal now. And the Bestiary said something about Shadow Phasing, but it might be person-dependent or just pure legend.”

“What is that?” Derek asks, curious to learn everything he can in order to be able to help Stiles as best he can.

“Basically it said something about travelling through shadows. I don’t know, it was very vague.” Both wolves can sense the agitation rolling off of the banshee in waves; she hates not knowing almost as much as Stiles.

“I’ll go talk to Stiles. We should ask him what he wants to tell the pack.” Derek offers, much to Scott’s surprise and Lydia’s amusement.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now the Alphas know. What do? 
> 
> XD
> 
> I'm so happy you guys are liking this. I honestly love this premise and I've had so many people tell me they're right there with me. I'm glad that I could be the conduit for this phenomenal pairing and I promise to keep at it on a somewhat regular basis. Lol.


	7. Better Than Silver and Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek, alone in Stiles' room, a revelation hanging in the air between them. If this was my normal brand of fanfic I would be going down a much more Explicit path, but I have refrained. In the place of smut there is a mountain of sexual tension and desire, though, so enjoy that. XD

An hour later Derek hesitates at the front door of the Stilinski house, hand hovering a few inches from the door as he clenches and unclenches his fist. It’s crazy to be so nervous, especially with the knowledge that the Sheriff is at work, and yet Derek can’t seem to stop shaking. He still can’t quite believe that Stiles, of all people, is a succubus. It almost seems like a cruel irony, and it’s doing nothing to lessen his reactions to the teen. If anything, the knowledge is doing the exact _opposite_. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, finally knocking before he can talk himself out of it entirely.

“Coming!” Stiles’ voice rings out and then a second later the door is swinging open to reveal the man himself, panting and looking slightly breathless with Cheetos dust on his fingertips and surrounding his mouth like a bright orange goatee. “Oh, hey, Derek. You used the door. Did someone die?” He asks, stepping aside to let Derek in before shutting it behind him and climbing the stairs up to his room, confident that the moody werewolf will follow.

“No, I just needed to talk to you. Lydia thinks she figured out what you are.”

The change in Stiles’ chemo-signals almost hits Derek like a physical punch, his utter joy throwing him off-balance. “Really!? I’m _dying_ to know. I have spent _so_ _long_ trying to figure it out and I just can’t seem to find an answer that sticks. Thank god for that strawberry blonde genius.”

After they settle into their usual spots with Stiles sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed and Derek perched in his old, creaky desk chair Derek realizes that it is his job to tell Stiles that Cheetos are not gonna do anything to fill him up, despite him obviously trying, if the half dozen empty bags are anything to go by. “Did Erica really kiss you?” Derek blurts, having to know. He internally curses the lack of tact, knowing that he could’ve started a million other ways.

Stiles instantly gets so red that he could make a tomato look pink. “Uh, yeah. I was talking about these characters or something and she decided the best way to shut me up was to…” He gestures at the air with a wild flourish, too embarrassed to say it out loud.

“So, Lydia thinks that you are a succubus.” Derek blurts, knowing that there is no way to beat around the bush when it comes to Stiles.

“You’re kidding.” Stiles scoffs, taking it way better than Derek expected, to be honest. “That could explain why I’m so damn hungry all the freaking time. I thought it was just a side effect of the increased metabolism.”

He slips around Derek to grab his laptop before returning to his previous position on the bed and Derek ends up curling his hands into tightly balled fists, claws sinking into his palms to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing the younger man when he steps so tantalizingly close, the smell of his cologne and just _Stiles_ still lingering in the air around Derek like a cloud of his own personal opium. “I skimmed over the entry in the Bestiary when I was looking through it the first time but it seemed so impossible that _I_ would become a succubus. I mean, come on, _me_ , of all people. Really?”

“She said something about you needing to feed on people’s desires – like their aspirations and driving forces, stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I’m looking that up right now. ‘A succubus is a creature of darkness and lust, so therefore they feed on the richest, most decadent parts of the human soul: their wants and desires. While human food proves to not be toxic to them, it is also not filling for these creatures. Succubae can live for up to six months without feeding, in which time they will gradually grow more feral and hostile until what humanity they have is lost and their inner demon takes hold.’ Demon, what demon?” Stiles’ head jerks back indignantly and he glares at the screen, reading on in silence to try to clarify. “Oh, me. It means me. Fantastic, you guys get an inner wolf and I get a freaking _demon_.” He mumbles the last part, even though he knows Derek will still here him just as easily.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, knowing it’s a dumb question before he even asks it.

“I’m just relieved to know. All this time not knowing was pure torture.” He lets out a sigh and looks up at Derek with a smile on his face. “Hey, do you have any of that all-consuming rage to avenge your family left?”

“Yeah, not enough to use it as my anchor, but it’s still there, for sure.” He nods, wondering what the point behind the question is.

“Can I borrow some of it?” Stiles asks, fidgeting with his fingers and avoiding eye contact with the Alpha.

“What for?”

“Well, you were right about the feeding on desire thing. Rage and anger, revenge, they’re some of the most motivational desires a human can possess. But, I don’t- I don’t know how…” Stiles blushes, looking hopelessly and utterly lost as to how he’s supposed to draw energy from Derek’s internal rage.

“You don’t know how to feed.” Derek realizes and he feels stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

“Yeah…”

“Well.” Derek thinks for a second, trying to imagine the most logical way that a succubus could feed without killing their victims, since he can’t remember hearing his family or the Argents talk about having to stop a single succubae. “You know how werewolves take pain?”

“Of _course_. I had five of you taking my pain before you bit me that night. And it’s not the first time I’ve made use of that particular skill.” Stiles nods, hope blooming in his eyes despite the phantom pain flashing through his abdomen and Derek suddenly hopes that he is right.

“So, what if it’s like that? What if it’s a touch thing?”

“Oh. That makes sense. You’re not gonna bite my hand off if I touch you, right?” Stiles asks and Derek huffs out a small, tense laugh before shaking his head and timidly offering his hand for Stiles to take with what he hopes is an encouraging smile but feels more like a grimace. Derek takes a deep breath as Stiles shifts, steeling himself against the automatic instincts that rear up their ugly heads at Stiles’ proximity and impending touch. He makes a mental note to talk to Deaton about getting some mood stabilizers or at least something to dampen his senses. This is _torture_ and hiding his discomfort is even worse.

Stiles takes the hand and grips it tightly, trying to imagine Derek’s rage as a physical thing leaving Derek’s body and entering his through their joined hands. He closes his eyes, both to concentrate and to avoid staring at their hands for too long and being disappointed if it doesn’t work and he has to let go. He begins to feel as if his hand is tingling, like it had fallen asleep and is just waking up. He doesn’t think much of the sensation until Derek gasps and his eyes flick open to meet the werewolf’s.

“It’s working.” Stiles laughs, still not fully believing it, despite seeing the lines of copper snaking through his forearm, just beneath the skin.

“Stiles, your eyes.” Derek sounds breathless and Stiles gets suddenly worried.

“What about them?” He whispers, worried that talking too loud will somehow ruin everything.

“They’re _beautiful_. It’s like molten bronze.” Derek assures him, letting a genuine smile show, feeling completely at ease with Stiles right there in front of him, filling his senses.

“Really? That’s awesome!” Stiles looks so excited and Derek can feel the connection between them almost vibrate, like a rubber band being flicked. He feels slightly lightheaded and his eyes flutter a few times before he flexes his hand, trying to get Stiles’ attention, but the kid is too busy staring at his own forearm in awe to notice.

“Sti-” He manages to choke out, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed and Stiles looks up just in time to see Derek very nearly pass out. He lets go immediately, jumping away from his Alpha and apologizing over and over again.

It only takes a few seconds for Derek’s mind to clear and his heart to slow back to a normal pace, but it takes Stiles a good ten minutes to stop apologizing. When he finally shuts up about it, though, Derek takes the chance to address the only thing he hasn’t asked Stiles yet. “So what do you want to tell the pack? We’re supposed to be on our way to the loft by now.”

“Okay. You drive, I’ll decide on the way. Deal?” Stiles asks, grabbing his red hoodie off the back of the desk chair and leading Derek out to the driveway before Derek even has a chance to agree with him.

“Are you staying over tonight?” Derek asks, knowing that when they do Friday night pack movie marathons half of them stay at the loft and pass out anywhere there is an open space.

“Yeah, probably. As long as you can drop me off in the morning?”

“Sure. I have to take the Camaro to the shop for an oil change anyway. It’s on the way.” Derek nods, starting the engine of his precious car and backing out onto the road. They sit in companionable silence for a while but Derek knows that he has to break it. “So, what are you going to tell the pack?”

“Well, I guess I’ll tell them the truth. I mean, I don’t want to lie to them, and besides, they would probably be able to tell if I tried. Boyd might chill a bit; I’m pretty sure he wants to kill me.” Stiles rambles and Derek lets him do it. “Oh, hey, so if I get, you know, _hungry_ again, do you mind?”

“Do I mind what?” Derek asks just to press Stiles’ buttons, feeling more at ease and more playful than he has in _weeks_ ; there is something almost freeing about having Stiles feed off of his rage, like the anger is still there but not as volatile. He can definitely see how the feeling could easily become addictive, especially for humans.

“Really, Derek? You’re gonna make me say it?”

“Really.” He nods with a vicious grin, turning onto the road that leads to the loft and sparing a glance to his right so he can see the adorable pout that he knows will be on Stiles’ face.

“If I get hungry…” He starts and Derek can smell the embarrassment rolling off of the poor kid in literal waves. “Could I, ya know, feed… on some of your emotions?”

“Yes.” The wolf nods and he knows that Stiles would be flailing all over the place if he had the space. As it is he still ends up hitting his wrist against the doorframe in his jerk of surprise. “Don’t beat up my car, Stilinski.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? 
> 
> Sorry I've been a little MIA for a while; I had the flu, literally. I didn't feel like fighting with my computer when I couldn't even breathe properly so I just said eff it and put the update I was planning for a WEEK AGO on hold until I got my brain back online. 
> 
> Come talk to me! I will probably be down in the comments for a while so I'll see you there if you want to join me. Either way, have a wonderful day or night wherever you may be.
> 
> I'll catch you wonderful people next time.


	8. Pack and Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna apologize upfront for this one being so short, but then again, almost every chapter is. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it, we're starting to get towards the end of it so the build up is soon to pay off. I promise there is an end in sight for the lengthy angst.
> 
> Enjoy.

Overall the pack takes the news pretty well. They are really intrigued when Stiles tells them that he has bronze eyes and, of course, they make him prove it. Derek is all too willing to hold out his hand for Stiles to use, much to the guys’ surprise. The girls – and Jackson – spend the next few minutes laying out some ground rules for Stiles since he has the ability to draw them in without even trying now (the guys don’t see the need to tell Stiles to keep a check on his new influential powers seeing as he already spent the first ten minutes assuring the entire pack that he would try not to affect them and they trust him to keep himself in check if he can). After that everything goes about as normally as usual.

They stick in the next movie in the Harry Potter series, much to Jackson’s dismay, and try to set the record for most people sitting on a single couch. Stiles chooses to instead sit in one of the armchairs, that way he isn’t touching anyone. He would hate to accidentally drain someone’s emotions because he gets too into the movie and loses track of his own actions. Derek, ever the martyr, sits on the floor, his back leaning against the left leg of Stiles chair, “because there is nowhere else to sit” but mostly because he naturally gravitates towards Stiles anyway and he can allow himself to have this little bit of selfishness. He can be close and keep an eye on Stiles as a friend, knowing that he is protected and safe. Despite the concrete under his butt, Derek wouldn’t trade this for anything. He has a pack, a family, and it couldn’t be better. Well, it could, but only if Stiles would actually notice the pining that Derek has been trying to hide for the past few years.

+++

About an hour into the movie, with the lights down and the room dark Derek allows himself to relax, his back sagging into Stiles’ leg for support as the back of his neck rests against the younger’s knee. Stiles doesn’t react at first and then his fingers make their way into Derek’s hair, combing away the few tangles that he can find while he watches Hermione argue with Harry for the thousandth time. Derek feels the back of his scalp tingling and it takes him a second to realize that Stiles has stopped petting his hair and has his fingers buried deep in the strands, fingertips splayed out and Derek knows that if he tilted his head back and looked up he would be met with liquid bronze instead of Stiles’ usual whiskey brown irises.

Stiles can feel the contentment, the overwhelming sense of _home_ and _pack_ assault his senses like a physical presence and he can feel it spread all the way from his head to his toes, leaving behind a warm feeling that he could quickly become addicted to if he lets himself. He will never get over the fact that Derek is letting him have this, that he is willing to allow Stiles to _feed_ off of his emotions. The unbelievability of it all gives Stiles a high unique to itself and unlike anything that he has ever felt before or expects to ever feel again.

It’s nice, he decides, being surrounded by a pack that he can now be an equally contributing member to, knowing that he can and would put his life on the line for each and every person in the room and that they would do the same for him. He could _definitely_ get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? 
> 
> I tried to add in a bit of domestic normalcy before we get to the batshit crazy that will round out the last few chapters and finally have these two idiots get together. The next chapter should be up within the next week or so. We're almost to the end, guys!
> 
> Come talk to me if you wanna. I'll be in the comments, per usual. Have a wonderful day, night, or whatever it is when you are reading this and I'll see your lovely faces for the next chapter.


	9. The Storm Doth Rage On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I like symmetry and classic tropes I give you...
> 
> *drum roll*
> 
> Vampires!
> 
> They're not super flushed out because I'm just using them to get Stiles intrigued about certain things that he has hereto been ridiculously blase with. So yay! Tropes!
> 
> Enjoy.

Things get crazy again very quickly. Peace never lasts in Beacon Hills, not for long, at least.

Apparently the world has a sick, twisted sense of humor because the next baddies that roll into town are vampires – like, full on allergic to sunlight, diet of human blood and angst-ridden vampires. “Of-freaking- _course_ it had to be vampires! Why couldn’t it be something nice? Like fairies, or unicorns, or even something creepy like evil _garden_ _gnomes_? Why did it have to be _vampires_?” Stiles gripes when the wolves that were on patrol give their report.

In the past month and a half the pack has pretty much settled back into its usual flow with Stiles still being the faithful pack researcher with the help of Lydia at times while the wolves patrol and keep an eye on the town and its people. Only now Stiles is a little more durable and has been learning how to fight, and he’s _good_. Where endless energy and restlessness once ran rampant is now a penchant for incredible focus and agility that rivals even that of the wolves.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask them?” Scott grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger like he is hoping this will all go away if he presses hard enough.

+++

Stiles doesn’t end up asking them in the end, he doesn’t have to. Just like every other group of bad guys that have rolled into town since Peter Hale bit into his best friend the psychos seem to make a beeline for Stiles like he has a giant ‘kick me’ sign on his back. “Just look at it, Zurie. What an adorable little human. I could spend _days_ tracing those beauty marks.” A tall woman with straight black hair and alabaster pale skin purrs, stalking forward on her sky-high leather stilettos to go with her all black wardrobe.

Zurie, a dangerously beautiful woman with flawless chocolate-colored skin and wild brown curls appears behind Stiles and he spins to face her, quickly turning back around and then putting his back to the wall of the school just outside the locker rooms, desperately hoping that Scott, Isaac and Boyd _hurry the hell up already, what is taking them so damn long? The game ended half an hour ago!_ “God yes, Astrid. He would make a beautiful pet, if he could only obey. Too bad the poor thing was raised by _wolves_.”

Astrid – the pale, raven haired one – sighs dramatically, one perfectly manicured nail tracing along Stiles’ jaw and making him shudder. He moves away from the wall to get away from her and ends up backing straight into Zurie’s chest. Before he can move the woman has one hand holding his head still by his jaw and the other is moving his shirt off of his neck to give her more room to bite but she pauses and hums thoughtfully, breath ghosting across his skin and causing goosebumps to raise on the delicate flesh. “What a _delicious_ surprise. You’ve been marked, my lovely. Who sunk their fangs into you, darling?” Zurie drawls and Stiles shudders, trying to wiggle out of her grasp but her grip holds fast, despite the boost of strength that Derek’s bite gave him.

“Ooh,” Astrid beams like the news of a bite is the best thing she’s heard in ages. “He _belongs_ to somebody. That means he’s going to taste so much _sweeter_!”

“I’d love it if the two of you would _get off of me_.” He growls, allowing his voice to drop into that commanding yet sensual tone that Deaton and Lydia have been helping him master so that he can learn to control his newfound abilities.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Zurie tuts, tugging just a little harder on his jaw and forcing his head to tilt back, effectively shutting him up. “Persuasion doesn’t work on vampires, sweetheart. We _invented_ that little trick. You’re obviously not human so what, siren? Demon?” She drags her fangs across the tendon in his neck, not enough to draw blood but more than enough to make him squirm.

“Succubus,” Astrid says before Stiles can, eyes catching his and he steels his face, hiding his emotions behind an unreadable mask, “right? You’re basically like a cousin. What are you doing slumming with a pack of rabid _dogs_?”

“Those ‘ _dogs’_ happen to be my friends.” Stiles growls, voice cold as ice and eyes no warmer as he levels them on the vampire in front of him.

Half a second later a howl cuts through the parking lot and the grip on his jaw loosens for just a second but it’s long enough for Stiles to throw his elbow into her ribs and roll out of the way just as a wall of leather and muscle barrels into the pair. They run off before Derek can get a single punch in and he turns to Stiles, offering a hand to help him stand before looking at him with concern furrowing his brows. “Are you hurt?”

“What?” Stiles asks, confusion making him tilt his head.

Derek’s hand comes up and Stiles flinches but its Derek and he _trusts_ Derek so he settles and nods. The Alpha stares into Stiles’ eyes for a moment before moving again, the side of his hand tracing a path up Stiles’ cheekbone and coming away streaked with red. “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh. I’m okay, I think. Probably just a scratch from one of her nails.” He shrugs and Derek takes a step closer, Stiles backing into the wall and his Alpha pinning him there while his nostrils flare, eyes glimmering like brilliant rubies in the dim fluorescent lighting on the side of the building. “Whoa, hey, buddy, I’m fine. I promise.”

“You smell like _death_ , Stiles.” Derek grumbles and his nose burns when he tries to inhale. His wolf is pacing anxiously in his chest at the feeling of _wrong_ that is currently blanketing Stiles. He rests his forehead against his mate’s, trying to even out his breathing and calm the animal within him before the predator rears its head in protest of the horrible stench encircling him, or worse, tries to correct the imbalance right there against the brick wall outside of the boys’ locker room with half of the lacrosse team, including three of their wolves, still in the showers just a wall away.

Ever since he gave Stiles the Bite the kid has smelled more like Pack than ever, but now… now all Derek can smell is a cold stench that hurts his sensitive nose.

“Where the hell were you!?” Stiles yells a moment later once Derek has calmed down, slipping around Derek and leaving him staring at the wall, Stiles’ anger clear in the pitch of his voice. “What took you guys so freaking long!?”

Derek turns and Scott, Isaac and Boyd are all staring at both him and Stiles in confusion. He decides to save them all some time and just tell it how it is. “Stiles got cornered by two vampires. We definitely have a new threat in town.”

+++

The sound of the bell over the door chiming draws Deaton’s attention and he walks out of the examination room to greet Stiles, who now needs the little partition gate opened before he can enter into the Druid’s inner sanctum, as he calls it. “Stiles, we don’t have anything scheduled for today. Is there something particular on your mind?”

“Uh, yeah, Doc. There’s these two vampires in town and they said something to me when they cornered me that kind of confused me. I was hoping you would be able to offer some insight on the subject.” Stiles shrugs, hopping up onto the exam table and staring at the veterinarian with hopeful eyes.

“Of course. What did they say?”

“Well, she thought I was human. She was going to bite me but she hesitated when she saw this.” Stiles pulls the collar of his Captain America t-shirt away from his neck, allowing the man to see the scarred impression left by Derek’s teeth. “They said that I was _marked_ and that I _belonged_ to somebody. What did they mean?”

Deaton lets out a heavy sigh and looks down at his hands for a long moment before meeting Stiles’ eyes once more. “I was hoping that he had already told you by now, but I guess that burden has now fallen to me…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how'd I do? 
> 
> I know, vampires are cliche, but sometimes cliches become cliches because they work and they're good. Hopefully it was tolerable, at the very least. 
> 
> Come talk to me in the comments if you want. I'm usually pretty good at responding when I actually see the notifications.


	10. Miscommunication Is Our Middle Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the final chapter!
> 
> Well, except for the epilogue and eventually the companion piece, but still.
> 
> I know I've been evil by going twice as long as usual between updates. I do apologize for that, life happened. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Stiles slams the door to the loft open, the massive block of metal slamming into the wall as its wheels squeal in protest. Derek looks up from the ridiculously massive book he is reading – War and Peace, to be specific, because of _course_ it is – closing it when he sees the livid expression on Stiles’ face. He takes a breath to ask what’s wrong but Stiles is talking before he can even open his mouth to speak.

“Were you _ever_ gonna tell me!?” He screams and Derek freezes, still not 100% clear as to what they’re talking about but having a pretty good guess. He stands from his chair and takes a step towards Stiles, hands up in front of him in a placating gesture. “Were you ever gonna tell me why your bite scarred?” Stiles pushes at his chest, making him stumble back in shock.

“Stiles, I-” He starts but the teen keeps talking, barreling right over his words, not that he has any explanation, any reason that would be good enough for Stiles.

“I don’t understand. I was _dying_ _in your arms_ and you thought that on the off chance that I survived you would put a big ass ‘Property of Derek Hale’ sticker on my fucking _neck_? What the actual _fuck_ Derek!?” He pushes at Derek’s chest again and the werewolf stumbles back another step, nearly tripping over the rug covering his living room floor as Stiles advances on him, his heart stuttering in his chest and lurching dangerously at the look of anger, no… betrayal in Stiles’ eyes.

“I wasn’t- I swear Stiles I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking.” Derek stutters out, his emotions written on his face plain as day for once as he lays himself bare before the one person who has gotten close enough to genuinely hurt him. “You were _dying_. _All_ I could think about was saving you. I just bit. My wolf, my _instincts_ took over and told me where, but I swear to you, Stiles, I never meant for this to happen. I never meant for _any_ of this to happen.”

“You _claimed_ me Derek. And then you lied about it _to my face_. What, did you not trust me enough to tell me the truth? Or did you not think that I needed to know that we are _basically_ supernaturally hitched?” Stiles sasses and Derek can feel the shame pouring off of himself in torrents that must be a physical presence at this point because of their intensity.

Derek takes a hesitant step forward, his fingers wrapping around Stiles’ wrist, despite the stench of Stiles’ betrayal still hanging heavy in the air around them. He just holds his slender wrist at his side for a moment, staring at their feet while he takes a breath to steel himself and then he rests Stiles’ hand over his heart, holding it there with his own. “I can’t excuse any of this Stiles. You have the power, tell me what you feel. Tell me why I couldn’t face you knowing that I had taken every chance of a life without me in it away from you. Tell me how I was supposed to tell you that both myself and my inner animal chose you as our mate when I hadn’t even asked you about any of it. Tell me how I was supposed to be able to look in a _mirror_ , let alone into your _eyes_ , when I knew that I had crossed that line, Stiles. Please, tell me that, because I don’t know. I have been trying for _months_ to tell you, I really have, but the words just never came.”

Stiles stares at his own hand, lines of copper flickering up his forearm as all of Derek’s emotions, his shame, his regret, his pain, his loneliness, his love all come crashing into his senses. Without focusing on absorbing a particular emotion, Stiles gets them _all_. He can feel his mouth drop open, his lips forming a loose “Oh” as he realizes that Derek is just as scared about all of this as he is, if not more. “You love me?” He whispers, almost like he doesn’t believe it, despite the emotions, Derek’s emotions, currently rushing through his veins.

“Despite my best efforts, _yes_ , I love you, Stiles.” Derek huffs with a hesitant smile and Stiles beams from ear to ear.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” The question is a fragile, broken thing, but there is hope in those words and Derek can feel his heart start to soar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after TEN WHOLE CHAPTERS I leave you without even a single, solitary kiss. Who knows, maybe in the epilogue, DEFINITELY (and much, much more) in the companion piece (no idea when that will be written and posted, btw). 
> 
> I know, I'm the worst. I take full responsibility. I'm just a little evil like that. It's October! I was feeling rambunctious. 
> 
> Feel free to come be pissed at me in the comments. I more than deserve it for the lack of resolution to the slow build thus far, but remember, there's an epilogue coming, probably on Halloween, so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> Have a lovely night and I'll talk to you all later.


	11. (Gimme a Slice of That) Apple Pie Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over!! It's finally finished.
> 
> Now, I do need to apologize. I promised that the epilogue would go up on Halloween and my computer ended up in the shop getting a new battery and keyboard (and that's just a few of the things I need to get fixed). I JUST got it back and the first thing I did was find wi-fi so I could post this. It's been killing me to not keep that promise!
> 
> I hope you guys like it and aren't too upset about the delay...
> 
> Enjoy.

It’s been almost six and a half months since Stiles got Derek’s bite, his claim, and in that time the pack has dealt with gryphons, vampires, witches, ghosts, and even, most memorably, an _actual_ hydra – though, if you ask the pack the worst thing they’ve faced in the past few months, the almost unanimous answer will probably be trying to get Stiles and Derek to stop making out for more than two seconds. In that time Stiles and Derek have figured a lot of things out, especially their communication. They are taking things slow, _dating_ , as weird as it sounds to everyone involved. Lydia swears to this day that she knew it was all gonna happen the minute she heard about Stiles holding Derek up in a pool for two hours the night he left her crying in her car in the school parking lot.

Stiles doesn’t know if _that’s_ true but he _does_ know that he feels his best when he’s curled up in an armchair, Derek sitting under him, and their pack – yes, _their_ pack, because apparently Alphas’ mates get special privileges in the wolf-y hierarchy – spread out all around them like one big happy family. If Stiles has his way things will be like that for a very, _very_ long time.

“What?” Derek asks softly, eyes boring into Stiles’ own and pulling him away from his train of thought. The pack is currently sitting in a large circle around a bonfire, using tree stumps and fallen logs as seating, enjoying the blessedly quiet fall evening, and roasting marshmallows for s’mores, and Stiles must’ve been staring right at Derek while he was thinking – a habit he’s allowed himself to freely indulge in now that he’s able to stake a claim on the big bad wolf.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about a dream I had.” Stiles smiles, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against Derek’s, which Derek allows, despite the amused snort that comes from Isaac and Boyd’s direction.

“Really? Which one?” Derek hums, resting their foreheads together and letting his eyes slip closed, focusing on the sound of their hearts beating in the same rhythm.

“We’re sitting around a clearing and everyone is there, even Cora, my Dad, Chris, Melissa, just- everyone. It’s so peaceful.” Stiles can tell that everyone is listening to him, their quiet conversations all lulling into silence. “It’s probably summertime, or early fall, right when the leaves start to change. You and I are sitting on a picnic blanket, your back against a tree, mine against your chest, like usual.”

“I keep telling you, I’m not a pillow.” Derek huffs, but everyone can tell that there’s nothing but affection in the admonishment.

“No, you’re _my_ pillow, Sourwolf. Let me finish, you’re the one that asked what I was thinking.” He lightly hits Derek’s chest, sitting up and leaning his side into the Alpha’s shoulder where he’s all taut muscle and heat, his face going dreamy and yet serious. “Allison, Scott and Boyd are chasing three little kids around while Erica rocks hers and Boyd’s youngest in the shade. Isaac is desperately trying to get a little strawberry-blonde infant to let go of his ridiculous scarf with this look of utter horror on his face while Lydia fixes sandwiches for everyone like the boss she is and Jackson is out in the field playing tag with the older kids. Our parents are sitting in a circle of lawn chairs a bit aways, watching their grandkids run around and giggle while mine and Allison’s dads are planning a fishing trip, of all things.”

A quick look around the circle when he pauses to take a deep breath tells Stiles that every single one of the people present are imagining the scene he’s painting so he continues on, leaving no detail out, knowing that they need something to cling onto after the past few weeks of hell they’ve all had (stupid prankster imps). “Cora has even come up to visit, though we know it’s more to see her niece than to see us.” The fierce look of adoration and protectiveness that Derek levels on Stiles when he glances at him makes his heart lurch in his chest and he knows in that moment that Derek will make a fantastic father one day. “Our oldest girl looks just like you, Der, raven hair and those _gorgeous_ green eyes of yours, and she absolutely adores her Aunt Lydia.” At this he looks at the strawberry-blonde, who just flips her hair with a knowing smile.

“Well, _obviously_ , with you two knuckleheads for fathers.” She huffs, pride and adoration lacing every word and taking away the sting of the insult, her massive smile giving away the joy she feels at the statement.

“And I bet our son looks just like his father, all dotted moles and flailing limbs.” Derek rumbles with a sharp edge of humor, nose buried in Stiles’ neck and the younger just huffs.

“Whose dream was this again?” He nips at the Alpha’s stubbly jaw and Derek just chuckles. “But, yeah, I guess he does look a lot like I did at his age. He’s _definitely_ taken after me if the way he was looking at Lydia and Jackson’s oldest is any indication.” Stiles smiles despite himself and the rumble of a growl warns him off that particular topic. “As a whole it’s completely picturesque. There’s laughter bouncing off the trees and kids running around everywhere, and it’s nice, it’s _peaceful_. Everyone is at ease and can sit back and relax and just enjoy the feeling of _belonging_ and _pack_.” Stiles smiles, leaning further into Derek’s warm embrace. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept better.”

“Well, one thing’s for sure, my kid is _definitely_ not gonna go for yours, Stilinski.” Jackson snorts and just like that the dreamy hush lifts from the circle, everyone jokingly bickering about their non-existent children’s qualities and rankings. Stiles just smiles and sits back, basking in the glow of the firelight, thinking that that dream may not be too far off, or too impossible, after all.

“You’re going to be a great father one day, Stiles.” Derek rumbles in his ear, low enough that the words are only meant for Stiles to hear.

He leans back to look up into his mate’s emerald eyes, seeing the sincerity there and smiling. He tilts his jaw up and Derek meets him in a gentle kiss that feels sweet and soft and leaves them both smiling like idiots. “You won’t be too bad yourself, Hale.” He promises and before they can devolve into a full-on make-out session Lydia’s voice is cutting through the lovey daze they’ve lost themselves in.

“Just so you know, before you ask, I will not be serving as your surrogate, no matter how much you beg.” She doesn’t say it with any malice or hidden anger, just stating a fact, almost teasing, even. “ _Especially_ if I’m going to have as many kids as you seem to think I am.”

“Understood.” Stiles shrugs and Allison is shaking her head before he even thinks to look her way.

“Same here, guys. Sorry.” She shrugs and Scott laughs, pulling her into his side and kissing her temple.

“I’ll think about it, Batman.” Erica chuckles and Stiles just shakes his head.

“I wasn’t even thinking about asking, guys. Having kids would be nice, and I’d love to do it, but we’re still a pretty vulnerable pack, at least in outsiders’ eyes, and I don’t think now is the right time. When it is, I have _no_ _problem_ going outside of the pack for a surrogate, otherwise it would be too weird.” The proud glint in Derek’s eye has gotten even more obvious and Stiles can’t help the blush that colors his cheeks, what with all the talk of kids and a peaceful life.

“Can someone pass him a s’more before he keeps rambling?” Jackson groans and Stiles shoots him a look before deciding to ignore him. The statement does serve to break the last of the tension and it’s like the conversation about the dream never even happened, Allison and Erica talking about a trip to the huge mall a few towns away to try out some new aerodynamic arrowheads while the guys talk about whatever sports game was on recently – Stiles has no clue, he’s not really paying attention, at least not to anything outside of his and Derek’s little bubble.

“Did you really dream that?” Derek asks softly, voice still only loud enough for Stiles’ ears. “Or were you just trying to give them something to hold onto?”

“I really dreamt it.” Stiles nods, looking up at Derek with wide, earnest eyes. “I almost didn’t want to wake up, it was so nice, but I knew you’d be next to me when I did finally open my eyes, which is incentive enough for me, no matter what I’m dreaming of.”

“You’re ridiculously sappy, did you know that?” Derek huffs out a laugh, leaning down to kiss Stiles again.

“Hmm, I remember someone saying something about that, yeah. Tall guy, dark hair, green eyes, _really_ bad attitude. Yeah, I seem to recall something along those lines.” Derek narrows his eyes on his mate, his face flat and serious but Stiles can read him better than that. He’s totally expecting it when Derek swoops down to cover Stiles’ mouth with his own, this kiss is far less innocent and more claiming than those before it, this one meant to quiet Stiles’ mouth and his mind.

The future may be nice to dream about but Stiles has to admit, he’s rather enjoying the way things are now, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm glad to be able to say it's finished, except for the companion one-shot, but I also kind of feel sad... 
> 
> Also, relevant little side note: I don’t particularly care for mpreg, despite the stereotypical A/B/O tropes bc imo this is a story with an Alpha werewolf, not an A/B/O!verse thing, but it’s up to you, I guess. 
> 
> How did you guys like it, now that it's done in it's entirety? Was it worth the spotty updating and the shorter-than-I-wanted chapters?
> 
> I will still probably be hanging out in the comments for awhile, rereading them and being all sappy and nostalgic. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for taking the time to get all the way through this story and hanging on until the very end; it means so much to me, honestly.
> 
> And last but not least, have a wonderful day, night, or whenever and I'll see you all again when I post the companion piece, which I am not even gonna venture to estimate a release date for because I'm still working on it.

**Author's Note:**

> So what do you think?
> 
> I haven't written Sterek in forever and I literally have no clue why because they are literally my number one OTP.
> 
> Come talk to me in the comments. I try and stay pretty good about replying. I like to have conversations and discussions down there. Feel free to chat with me if you wanna.
> 
> Talk to you guys later.


End file.
